


Don't Blame It on the Sunshine

by MsMelancholy



Series: Crowley was Raphael :) [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Wings, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), But I like to do research on stuff, Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Demons, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, OKAY A LOT OF BAD, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Uh I wrote this in half an hour, Wings, it's kind of bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23304646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsMelancholy/pseuds/MsMelancholy
Summary: “Mister Crowley,” Brian’s face is messy with grape jelly. “If all demons used to be angels, doesn’t that mean you used to be an angel?”Aziraphale suddenly pauses what he’s saying, glancing over at Crowley to gauge his reaction. Crowley is mostly startled if anything, surprised that Brian would ask the question out of the blue.“Yeah, I used to be an angel.” Crowley drums his fingers against the metal biscuit tin.“What kind of angel?” Pepper inquired curiously.“An archangel,” Crowley admits.[Or: Crowley tells the humans that he used to be an archangel. Nothing is ever easy with him.]
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Crowley was Raphael :) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1438327
Comments: 7
Kudos: 339





	Don't Blame It on the Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> The quarantine has given me a crap ton of time to work on my own characters and their story, so I hadn't gotten around to any fanworks until now! I'm not gonna lie, every time I read this it gets a little worse and I really don't like how I wrote it. Although, I feel like it's kind of dumb to have spent all that time working on it to not show it to anyone, so here. I hope y'all find something redeeming in it.

“If he honks his horn one more time, I’m going to send him to Wyoming.”

Aziraphale hums distastefully, completely content in the passenger seat. “Why don’t you just miracle the horn silent?”

“It’s the principle,” Crowley groans. “What makes him think that he has the right to honk his horn every time traffic slows down a little bit? I'm not getting antsy about the traffic, and that says a lot.”

“I know, my dear.” Aziraphale looks up from his book. “Although, that accomplishment is negated by the fact that you’re getting irritated by the man’s horn.”

Crowley sighs, melting into his seat. The Bentley starts playing Blame It on the Boogie. Michael Jackson has always been a guilty pleasure of Crowley’s. The man’s voice was so particular and fitted to him that Crowley couldn’t help but listen to his music whenever his nerves were a little too pinched to listen to Queen for the millionth time.  
Aziraphale glances over at Crowley, a surprising image of calm, and snaps his fingers. Miraculously, the traffic starts to ease up and finally Crowley is back to flying down the highway at illegal speeds. It’d partially been his fault that they were stuck in traffic anyway.

Anathema and Newt had invited them to a picnic in a small park in Tadfield.  
At the mention of the word ‘picnic’, Aziraphale insisted that he make sandwiches. He insisted on doing it the ‘hard way’ and as a result, he and Crowley had gone all the way back to London to get all the ingredients that Aziraphale wanted. So yeah, even with Crowley driving down the streets like a madman, they’d still gotten caught up in the traffic jam. Aziraphale supposed he owed Crowley a relaxing drive back to Tadfield.

“You finally made it!” Newt greets happily. “We were getting worried.”

“Just a little traffic.” Aziraphale smiles as Crowley rolls his eyes at the mention of the traffic jam.

“Oh, everyone’s already setting things up.” Newt closes the trunk to his car. “Are those sandwiches? They smell heavenly! Pun intended.”

Aziraphale raises the picnic basket giddily. “Wait until you try them! The bread is toasted to perfection to maximize enjoyment!”

Newt laughs, leading them towards a field shaded with trees. When Newt had said ‘everyone’s setting things up’ he must have meant that Anathema was setting things up. The kids are playing Grandmother’s Footsteps, Pepper acting as grandma. Anathema looks up from where she’s fixing the blankets and waves at the angel and demon.

“Aziraphale and Crowley are here!” She calls out to the Them.

Brian is the first to give up playing, running over to Aziraphale and Crowley with muddied knees. Wensleydale is the next to leave having spotted Aziraphale pulling a book out of the picnic basket. Adam and Pepper lock eyes.

“What about a truce?” Adam suggests.

“Fine. Shake on it?” Pepper sticks out a hand towards him.

The second Adam moves to take her hand, she cheers. “You moved! You lost!”

“What? We called a truce!”

“We never shook on it.” She sticks her tongue out, running towards the picnic blanket. “Don’t be a sore loser!”

Eventually, everyone is seated on the blanket gorging on snacks and Aziraphale’s sandwiches. Crowley, not a big eater, nibbles on a biscuit that he wouldn’t dare to admit is actually really good. Anathema and Aziraphale get into a discussion about The Catcher in the Rye to which Wensleydale jumps in once he realizes what booth they’re talking about.

“Mister Crowley,” Brian’s face is messy with grape jelly. “If all demons used to be angels, doesn’t that mean you used to be an angel?”

Aziraphale suddenly pauses what he’s saying, glancing over at Crowley to gauge his reaction. Crowley is mostly startled if anything, surprised that Brian would ask the question out of the blue.

“Yeah, I used to be an angel.” Crowley drums his fingers against the metal biscuit tin.

“What kind of angel?” Pepper inquired curiously.

“An archangel,” Crowley admits.

“Let us guess which one!” Adam sits up so quickly, Crowley is worried that his spine is going to snap. “Winner gets to fly with you.”

“Why not with Aziraphale?” Crowley asks.

“Aziraphale wouldn’t fly nearly as fast as you,” Adam says bluntly. “It wouldn’t be as fun to fly at 2 miles an hour.”

“I’ll have you know that I fly at faster than 2 miles an hour!” Aziraphale huffs.

“Angel, no offense, but 10 miles an hour isn’t any better.” Crowley snorts.

“Oh hush.” Aziraphale flushes.

“Anyways,” Crowley runs a hand through his hair, forgetting that his glasses are sitting on top of his head. “Which Archangel was I?”

“Jophiel?” Brian guesses.

“Nope,” Crowley shakes his head. “She’s too much of an optimist. Absolutely gorgeous though. I mean, if you lot think my hair is nice, then Jophiel’s hair will blind you with its beauty.”

“Chamuel?” Adam says.

“Close,” Crowley hums. “He and I worked together a lot though. She always tended to get a bit techy though because I talk too much, apparently.”

“Zadkiel then?” Pepper suggests.

“Uh, no.” Crowley shifts. “He didn’t like me much. Which is ironic.”

“This is too hard!” Adam scratches his head as he tries to speak around a piece of fudge.

“You’re the one who suggested the game.” Anathema laughs softly.

"That was before I realized how many Archangels there are," Adam groans, sipping on a Capri sun. "I thought there were like seven."

“What about Ariel?” Wensleydale asks.

“Close, but not quite. She and I worked together a lot. I mean tons. She could beat me in an arm-wrestling match without really trying.”

“What about Metatron?” Newt suddenly jumps in.

“Don’t even talk about him.” Aziraphale shudders.

“Raguel was one of them right?” Adam guesses again.

“Yeah,” Adam almost cheers, but Crowley continues. “But that’s now who I was. Raguel is the reason the phrase ‘snitches get stitches’ was created. Do you know how many times I got yelled at by the Dominions because Raguel doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut?”

“Raziel?” Pepper tosses a grape at Brian who catches it in his mouth.

“Oh my-- I totally forgot about Raziel!” Crowley laughs a bubbly laugh. “He was one of the only archangels that wasn’t completely annoyed by my questions. If anything, he always tries to answer them. The Dominions told us we had to stop hanging out, but it never stopped us.”

“Sandalphon?” Newt says.

“Definitely not,” Aziraphale shoots him down. “Crowley can be annoying, but not nearly as annoying at Sandalphon.”

“I don’t know if I should be offended by that,” Crowley mutters.

“Wait,” Pepper perks up suddenly. “If you cancel out Michael, Uriel, and Gabriel because you two confirmed that they’re still in heaven--”

“Holy shit.” Adam realizes too. “You’re the archangel--”

“Raphael!” A voice snarls. It’s silky smooth and sends shivers down Crowley’s spine.

“Mammon,” Crowley says cooly, aware of everyone’s eyes on him.

“Well isn’t that swell,” The man hums. His hair is long, almost to his mid-back even with the way it's pulled back into a low ponytail. It’s a sickly orange color that makes his skin look like a pasty tan. “The rumors are true, You are a fallen archangel!”

Crowley shrugs nonchalantly, so Mammon continues.

“Asmodeus was telling me about how he overheard Beezelbub talking about some fallen archangel. We insisted on knowing what demon could wield such power without us knowing, and he said that it was out of our hands.” Mammon inspected his nails like they were the most interesting thing in the world. “So, I did my research. Visited all the demons who are estranged from hell and why am I not surprised that it led me back to you?”

“What do you want?” Crowley says bluntly, nerves already beginning to get frayed from the annoying sound of Mammon’s snickering. “I’m kind of busy right now.”

“Do you know how much of a bounty is on your head? Hell wants Crowley, but heaven is willing to grant wishes to anyone who can bring Raphael back to them.” Mammon’s ear twitches. It’s always struck Crowley as odd that he chooses to show his fox ears but hides his tail. It’s all or nothing in Crowley’s opinion. “It’s a two for one deal.”

“I’m going to be nice because I have guests,” Crowley’s eyes are closed. “You need to leave.”

Aziraphale can see the way his hands shake with barely held back anger. He wants to move, to hold Crowley’s hand in silent comfort but he’s busy shielding his extremely fragile human friends from what could be a potentially dangerous demon showdown. They’re all tucked behind Aziraphale’s wings, murmuring quietly amongst themselves. Brian keeps petting Aziraphale’s wings which seems to prompt Adam to do the same. Aziraphale doesn’t ask them to stop.

Mammon’s eyes glow with mirth and he barks out a laugh. “I’m not leaving without you this time.”

Aziraphale knows a little about Crowley and Mammon’s relationship. When Crowley had begun to get more popular in hell because of commendations, Mammon had offered Crowley a position as one of the Seven Deadly Sins. They’d needed someone to take a temporary position for envy since Leviathan was off on his own endeavors. Crowley turned the position down and Mammon has held a grudge since.

“Oh?” Crowley stood suddenly. “You’re not going to leave?”

Twin snakes danced up Crowley’s arms. His hair seemed to grow far longer than any length that Aziraphale had seen in the last 6000 years. He couldn’t see his face, but he knew that Crowley’s eyes had probably reverted back to their natural form. The way Crowley walked over to Mammon was more of a slither than an intimidating stroll.

Aziraphale had witnessed Crowley’s demonic wrath on multiple occasions. Once he had even bore the brunt of it in the mid-1600’s when Crowley had been summoned by a cult leader who pushed him to his breaking point. As familiar as Aziraphale was with the musk of a raging demon, he was caught off guard by the overwhelming aura of an angry archangel. His eyes scanned the area and sure enough, there was no sign of the archangels anywhere. Just Crowley.

Mammon must have sensed it too because he took a step backward when Crowley took a warning step forward.

“What’sss the matter, Mammon?” Crowley hissed. “I thought you weren’t leaving without me?”

“There’s no way,” Mammon gaped. “You--you’re fallen!”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Crowley’s wings popped out, throwing a violent gust of wind towards the other demon.  
Mammon grunted. “You shouldn’t have any of your angelic abilities left. You’re a demon for Satan's sake!”

“You know what really pissssesss me off?” The palms of Crowley’s hands began to glow. “When people tell me what I can and can’t do.”

“Crowley--”

“I’m the Archangel fucking Raphael,” Crowley snarled. “And you’re going to take your sssorry arssse back to hell or I’ll sssmite you myssself.”

Mammon glares daggers but compiles. He snaps his fingers and vanishes from the area. Crowley takes a deep breath and his wings fade out of this plane of existence.

“Angel, let’s go home.” He says tiredly.

Aziraphale nods quickly, putting his own wings away and turning to face the humans. “I’m terribly sorry to leave like this.” Aziraphale apologizes.

“It’s no problem, really Aziraphale.” Anathema soothes. “You two have more important matters to attend to.”

“Thank you, dear.” Aziraphale smiles softly before making his way over to Crowley.

Crowley doesn’t speak in the Bentley. He doesn’t speak the entire ride home. In fact, he doesn’t say a word until they’re back at home in their cottage in South Downs. Aziraphale is holding him as if the world depends on it. Crowley nuzzles into Aziraphale’s chest.

“I don’t know what came over me, Angel.” He says shakily. “It just happened without me thinking about it.”

“It certainly took me by surprise.” Aziraphale cards his fingers through Crowley’s hair. “Mammon too.”

“That’s not the point,” Crowley grumbles. “What if I had hurt someone? Demonic wrath is one thing, but righteous anger is a whole different ballpark. I’ve never--I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt someone innocent, Aziraphale.”

The angel’s eyes soften. He presses a chaste kiss to Crowley’s forehead. “Dear boy, I know that you would never hurt anyone. Even if the situation arose, I wouldn’t let you.”

Crowley seems somewhat placated by this answer if the heavy sigh is anything to go by. He shifts even closer to Aziraphale if possible. Aziraphale grins giddily and presses another kiss to Crowley’s face.

“I love you, angel.”

“And I, you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! I tried to do a little research on archangels and whatnot before I started writing, but since I used multiple different sources, some of the information is probably a little skewered. I apologize for any confusion with any knowledge that you already have about this topic. Double also, if you want to rant to me in the comments about angels and demons and what you know about them, please do! It not only helps me write better fics for y'all, but it helps me with my own personal writing too! Thank you for reading!! :)


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